


Life with and life without

by orphan_account



Category: Red Hot Chili Peppers (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 03:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Life with and life without

He had always preferred it when John had long hair. He uses to cut it very short and then he grows it for a year without even a small cut. He never understands how, after the cutting, it’s always more beautiful, soft, shiny.

Maybe because he misses it, when John cuts. Although he loves it when it’s just over the shoulders, not too long but enough to see the brown curls turn, falling partially over his face in little waves.

He likes to watch him during the concerts, though he can do it as thoroughly as he wishes only when John has long solos and during his part of the show, when he sings too. It always seems far off in another world, when he plays, but it’s ok by him. It’s the way John is. He likes to see his hair, when it’s long, falling back on his back, he likes to see his fingers slide on the guitar’s neck, he reprimes a shiver when he thinks that less one time which wasn't too long ago he wouldn’t have been able to keep one in his hands. But he doesn’t like to think about it and only notices the expression John has when he plays. The one of someone who loves doing what he does.

Sometimes, most of all when one song is over, he turn and smiles. A smile that lights John’s whole face up and makes him almost faint there on stage. It took years to understand why it had that effect on him, but now he knows. Now that he knows it, he wonders how the fuck it took so much time for him to get it, but then he decides that thinking is not useful and sticks to waiting. It never happens in the backstage; it’s in the hotel rooms.

Sometimes John comes first. More often, past midnight, when he understand that it’s not one of those times, he goes to John’s room instead.

There, that smile is for him only, there he can feel the curls sliding between his fingers, that’s why he likes when John has long hair, there he can kiss those lips which are even softer than they seem.

He had always tried to deny it but now he can freely admit to himself that John left him desperate when he left and changed his life for the better when he came back. For the better indeed, because now he doesn’t have a problem in admitting that he was worse off when John Frusciante wasn’t part of his life. Now he is, though, and he doesn’t want him to leave. One experience was enough.

“Anthony?”

He shakes his head, going out of his half-trance state, and he looks down, in direction of the head on his shoulders. The curls are just below the nape, and they brush his neck; his eyes meet another pair of green-brown ones, on the face that for him has the most beautiful traits that exist. The lips are curved in a tiny smile which exposes a line of perfect, white teeth. John’s back leans on his chest and his legs are draped horizontally over the bed.

“What are you thinking about?”

He tightens his grip on John’s waist, puts his hand on the farthest arm, rubbing his fingers slowly against one scar on the burned skin. He hears a small moan and smiles.

“Me?”  
“You.”  
“About nothing, really.”  
“I don’t believe you.”  
“Why shouldn’t you?”  
“i understand it, when you’re lying.”  
“Guess then.”  
“I can’t stand you sometimes.”  
“It’s not that difficult.”

He doesn’t let john answer it and he backs down a bit, the distance he needs to close to kiss those pink lips that are begging to be kissed. He hopes John has understood about whom he was thinking. At least he hoped it, but come on, Anthony wasn’t one to underestimate someone else’s intelligence like this.

Oh yeah. Life with John Frusciante was a whole, different thing.


End file.
